


Tease

by Tukkee



Series: At the Bottom of a Bottle of Tavum [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alcohol, Bathrooms, Drinking, Dubious Consent, M/M, Nipple Licking, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Piercings, Porn With Plot, Sibling Bonding, so many nipples
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tukkee/pseuds/Tukkee
Summary: Scott’s been ordered to help negotiate with Evfra on the Initiative’s behalf. His mind is unfortunately focused on one thing: his new nipple rings.





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of my "At the Bottom of a Bottle of Tavum" series. So I know that this pairing ain’t popular but I love Evfra and he deserves everything ever. Explicit because it gets real spicy towards the end. Marked rape/non-con because it technically happens but it’s like dubious consent if anything. Basically Scott likes it. A lot. I had a hard time writing this because I didn’t really know what to do with it but here it is.
> 
> Note: I understand that nearly EVERYONE has a different "Ryder" twin, myself included, so I'm tiring to make an effort to NOT explicitly describe the physical appearance of Ryder in my work. I feel that you can self insert your own Ryder into it and still be pleased. I only picked the name "Scott" because it's the official name, and it's the popular tag because fuck you I want the hits. Same with “Sara”.
> 
> Anyways, please give kudos and comment whether you liked or disliked it! And let me know if I missed a typo/error in it! Thanks for reading!
> 
> \-- -- --

His pen tip threatened to break with his last swat with it, a childish and tired maneuver indicative of his waning attention during his meeting. The point bounced off the tablet’s well-protected screen with a signature click and, as a result, bent in a crude shape, frustrating the Pathfinder even more than before. He sat in deep space, aboard some vessel he couldn’t even remember let alone pronounce the name of, surrounded by men and women bickering about something he was supposed to be knowledgeable of. He genuinely couldn't give any less of a shit, it had no real pertinence with him or his own crew. He heard terms reflective of trade laws and a system of equal exchange between the two powerhouse economies of Helius. Or something.

All he knew was that he had to be there because, as Pathfinder and galactic icon representing the Milky Way, his stunted input would be of some use in negotiating a desirable outcome. Via video conference from the Nexus,Tann was doing most of the talking in the council, and the in-the-flesh Evfra was doing most of the yelling. Separate holograms around the two men were Kesh and the Moshae, having escaped to a private audio feed to talk amongst themselves while the aliens duked it out. Scott reasoned they were focused on continuing the topic at hand, especially after the men started throwing thinly-veiled insults about their roles of authority and manhoods.

Scott had initially been sent by Tann to help convince the unshakable Evfra to attend a more formal meeting on either the Nexus or Aya, but the sight of the Pathfinder delivering orders riled the Angaran up enough to demand the conference commence at that moment. Not being one to have control taken from him, Evfra made a few calls and snarled injunctions to not leave the ship. After a few, tense minutes and failed attempts at small talk, Scott had finally managed to get the most powerful people in the known Galaxy together to talk about something he really didn’t want to talk about.

His impatience was getting the best of him and now that his stylus was nearly unusable, he was looking for something to distract him. His fingers nabbed a glass perched upside down in the dead middle of the table, carefully flushed against an unfilled pitcher and a stack of cocktail napkins. Exactly when those were set up was a complete mystery to the human, though knowing Evfra’s penchant for in-your-face confrontations and distaste for conventional conferences, the charmingly small display of civility could’ve been erected and left untouched for centuries. 

Scott’s rough and exhausted fingers circled the rim, picking at the imperfections in the glass and feeling the razor sharp grooves attempt to sink into his calloused nubs. His eyes blinked slowly and he rose, his knees cracking silently and back straightening up like a crooked slinky, desperate to return to its proper form. He tried to make little noise, opting to slide cautiously out of his chair and tip toe his way towards the back door. His attempts were futile as a scarred face and angry blue eyes whipped around to glare at him condemningly. Scott could hear Tann’s voice raise at the break in attention, which quickly escalated in more bickering between the two, but Evfra’s eyes remained fixed on the fleeing human.

Scott mouthed an apology and waved to the four before kicking his leg out behind him to knock against the solid block of metal separating him and freedom. He watched Evfra’s eyes narrow and twinge as the door slid open painfully slow and creaked with every centimeter. Not waiting for the full opening to materialize, Scott sucked in his chest and squeezed through the thin portal to the rest of the vessel, nipples flicking by and catching his fresh metal on the door. Scott’s teeth chattered and a low groan escaped his voice box, undoubtedly reaching the growingly peeved Angaran, eyes still transfixed on the pained human leaving the room.

“I fuckin’ hate these things,” Scott grumbled under his breath, fingers trepidatiously poking the screaming flesh underneath. He heard the resumption of shouting behind him and even his own name tossed around with less than stellar adjectives. His fingers tended to his tender circles, aching and moaning in their own way after the unexpected interaction with the door. He’d been telling himself to be as careful as possible, but his desire to leave that minefield of a conference room meant he was going to have to take a risk. And unfortunately, it meant scraping his freshly pierced bosom.

In the days after his sister was given the ‘all-clear’ from the medical staff aboard the Hyperion to leave her isolation from the wing, she wanted to let loose. Really loose. And really loose in the eyes of a Ryder meant drinking, and drinking meant sudden, rash decisions that usually involved gaitless strolls to the nearest body-modification kiosk on whatever rock or ship they were sloshed on. The Citadel back home had some, Omega had even better ones. Unluckily for the twins, the closest thing available in the still infantile Helius expedition was an Asari electrical engineer with a pack of needles, some ink, and a box of gloves in her apartment. 

Sara had apparently met her in the medical bay, each swapping stories of their past lives drifting in and around the galaxy six hundred years away. She was slowly unfrozen the same way Sara was, with fears of irreparable mental and physiological damage caused by the still-present Scourge. A few weeks of careful monitoring and R and R, and the Asari named Lysra parted ways to head to her assigned duty aboard the Nexus: tinkering away below the floors of metal tubing and carbon-fiber wiring on the massive space station.

On her days off, Lysra worked the only known tattoo parlor and piercing shop in Helius, save for the conceivably existent ones on Aya or Voeld. While things have smoothed out in terms of inter-species diplomacy, Sara’s job description, Scott could very well understand the reluctance a still sour Anagara would have to punch a hole through a human or any non-Helius native. In came Lysra, who welcomed the two drunk twins with open arms into her tiny storage container of an apartment. It was dimly lit, neon piping encircling the near-perfect square of a home. It smelled of chemicals, and flowers. It made Scott homesick. 

Sara sat in the chair first and proudly exclaimed her desire for something provocative, something to celebrate her survival of cryo-sleep. Lysra, with her glowing blue eyes and seductive lips, suggested some metal for her breasts. Something small and discreet to heal, then eventually gaging upwards to poke through her uniform at work. Sara’s eyes snapped shut, a hearty laugh pressed out of her lungs, and she swung around to slap Scott on his chest. Sara’s reaction instantly died down and with as much of a serious face as she could muster in her inebriated state, glared at Scott and demanded he get the exact same thing as her.

“Gotta be duplicates, little bro,” she smirked, hands slipping under her shirt to carelessly rip it off above her head. “Perfectly symmetrical in every way.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Sara,” Scott slurred, shifting in his spot on the cold, hard ground. “Anatomically speaking, we’re very different.”

“Not our nipples, though,” Sara beamed back, unfastening her bra and slinging the article from her shoulders. “Nipples are the same for all species.”

“Most species,” Lysra smirked as she got into position in front of the eager Sara. “Fair warning, this’ll hurt you more than it’ll hurt him.”

“Fuck that noise,” Sara hissed with a grin. “He may be the Pathfinder, but deep down he’s a wuss.”

“That hurts, Sis,” Scott scoffed.

“See? What’d I tell ya?!” Sara laughed as she pushed her breasts forward, letting Lysra grab one with a gloved hand. There were a few deep breaths heard and then the room got quiet. Then, suddenly, a scream.

Scott climbed into the mess hall aboard the Angaran Resistance leader’s ship, hoping to scrounge some food together to pass the time he’d inevitably waste by listening to two leaders argue. He checked the cabinets and the drawers, finding nothing but neatly stacked and organized tubes of nutrient paste, and small disposable bags. He frowned and inspected the label on several of the metallic containers, allowing SAM to translate the ingredients and not recognizing a single one.

“You’d think for a diplomacy vessel they’d have something everyone can eat,” Scott winced as he threw his hands up in defeat.

“Remember that the Angara and Kett were the only species in the system up until a month ago,” SAM chimed in.

“Still, though,” Scott bounced back. “I’ll have to put a word in with Sara.”

“Speaking of,” SAM said softly, “your sister has left a message for you, while you were in the meeting.”

“And you didn’t tell me until now?”

“You were preoccupied.”

“You saw me in there SAM, I could hardly get a word in,” Scott shuffled back towards the conference room. “Too many egos in there.”

“And now, one less,” SAM replied cheekily.

“Don’t you even,” Scott warned, pointing at the air towards an imagined, materialized SAM.

“Would you like me to patch her through?” SAM asked. 

“Might as well, I can still hear screaming,” Scott returned, ears perking up the distant but recognizable sounds of Tann’s high-pitched whine and Evfra’s low, gruff roar.

“Connecting now,” SAM ended, following its voice with a series of quiet beeps, then a sudden breath of wind and activity.

“What’s up lil’ bro?” Sara said loudly, her familiar voice ringing through Scott’s ears with the velocity of a red-hot shell.

“Nada, Sara,” Scott smiled as he stepped into a small, dark slipway off the main path in the hall. “Just returning your call.”

“Ah, yeah,” Sara giggled. “What’s up with Tann? I’m getting an endless stream of messages from the Moshae about his behavior.”

“Dude, I have no fucking clue,” Scott sighed, kicking a foot up to press behind him. “Evfra started bringing up shit that I guess wasn’t part of the itinerary and Tann just lost it. They’re still going at it.”

“Oh I know they’re still going at it,” Sara said softly, almost hushed as if it were a secret that the two leaders of two galaxies were at odds. “I’ve been moderating the discussion between the Moshae and Kesh. Things are looking—”

“Promising?” Scott intruded.

“We’ll see. They’re at least easier to talk to,” Sara chuckled. “There’s still a lot to talk about.”

“I’m surprised at you, Sara,” Scott clicked, fingers scratching his neck. “Not a week after getting discharged and you’re leading a meeting between two superpowers. Wouldn’t have thought of you as such an ambitious woman.”

“You try being in a coma for a month and see how ambitious you become when you’re finally awake.”

“Sara,” Scott deadpanned. “I died.”

“Shut the fuck up, Scott,” Sara groaned.

“Shut the fuck up,” Scott cleared his throat, “Pathfinder.”  A bolt of static and a momentary glitch drilled through the line and Scott could practically visualize his sister’s bright eyes arc over fully in shame. He smirked and poked his head out of the slot in the wall to eye the unattended conference room door at one end of the hall, and then down the opposite end to find a lone crewmember trudging towards him.

“Speaking of weeks after, how’re your tits?” Sara proclaimed suddenly, as pointed and straightforward as she could be.

“My tits,” Scott hissed under his breath as the pale Angaran lab technician stepped by his odd place in the wall. Scott bit his tongue and nodded to the woman, as she gave him an odd look before returning to her path and wandering off. “My tits, Sara, fucking hurt!”

The omission sent his sister over the edge, resulting in a garbled and distorted snort in the Pathfinder’s head. The artifacted mess of sounds dissolved back into the clear and defined stream in his ear, but the cackles of his sister remained. “Mine too, Scott, a little,” Sara chortled.

“Had I known these would smart the way they do, I honestly wouldn’t have gotten them,” Scott growled. “I wouldn’t have let you force me into ‘em!”

“Oh relax, they’re not that bad,” Sara hushed.

“They’re exactly that bad,” Scott said as he stepped back out into the hall. “They’re fucking red and tender and swollen.”

“That’s crazy, mine aren’t like that at all!” Sara said with an audible smile. “Show me.”

“Show you?” Scoot huffed.

“C’mon, Pathfinder,” Sara laughed. “Show your sister with medical experience your wounds.”

“Lodging it up in a hospital bed for a month isn’t experience, Sara,” Scott mumbled as he pivoted around to saunter down the grated pathway, each booted step creaking and warping the delicate steel floor. How the Angara walked around with such lightness and ease, without making much sound was lost on Scott. “Hang on, I’ll go to the bathroom and take a pic.”

“A selfie from the Pathfinder? How’d a girl like me get so lucky?” Sara teased.

“Something about being blood-related to the most important human in the galaxy,” Scott shot right back as he approached the community restroom door. His omni-tool glowed to life and he swiped it in front of the entrance, a breath of bleach and sterility punching his nostrils as the divider flew open.

“That’s a bold claim,” Sara said.

“It’s a correct statement,” Scott winked to no one. The room was barren and well lit, impossibly clean and lonely. He trudged over to the row of sinks and pressed his hips against the metal rim, feeling the icy cold basin lick at the small peek of skin under the hem of his shirt. The mirror expanding along the wall was framed with a small string of white, fiercely bright light, that poked dangerously on Scott’s retinas. “Doesn’t Evfra know anything about mood lighting?” Scott asked to himself.

“Probably not,” Sara replied. “Compared to the rest of Aya, Evfra’s digs are weirdly plain.”

“Makes sense, he’s a weirdly plain guy,” Scott shrugged. He looked around the room and over his shoulder before straightening his body and rolling up his shirt. The fabric tugged on his still fresh chest, threatening to clip on the orbs surrounding the swollen mounds of flesh. With a wince and a groan, he flipped the hem of the shirt around and over his head to crumple it behind his neck like a harness.

The fresh, cold air stung his chest with an odd mix of relief and worry. He shot his gaze down to his still tender buds and recoiled at the sight. “Goddamn it.”

“What?” Sara asked.

“I’m bleeding,” Scott mumbled as he tapped the faucet on and wet his fingertips.

“Bleeding? How?”

“I nicked ‘em on the door a bit ago,” Scott answered, swiping away streaks of ruby. 

“Yowch.”

“No shit,” Scott said, running his fingers under the gentle stream of water and flicking them dry. He flexed in front of the reflective panel, squeezing his chest together, then broadening out. His eyes lowered and his omni-tool activated, casting orange against the white from the wall lights. With a flash of his fingers, a small beep from his knuckles took and immediately sent a tasteful picture of Scott’s pained face staring at his red and raw pecs. He heard a similar beep from his ear and a slow, agonizing hiss from his sister on the other line. 

“Fuck, dude,” Sara groaned.

“Yeah,” Scott rolled his eyes, readying his shirt in his hands.

A sound of a latch clamping shut reverberated around the space, and Scott could have sworn he saw the metal of the mirror contort and shake. His eyes shot around behind him and he saw that Evfra, mighty and angry, had walked in on him shirtless. 

“Fuck me,” Scott said rather loudly to himself.

“Excuse me?” Evfra and Sara managed to say simultaneously, each with a different connotation and inflection. Hers was more laughably confused, a quiet giggle worming its way into his ears. The Angaran’s was more perturbed, a swirl of anxious discovery and angered shame, as if he caught the most important human in the galaxy with a smoking gun. Which he just did.

“Sara, I’m gonna have to call you back,” Scott silently muttered out. Before she could even reply, Scott had SAM end the call, quickly silencing the background wildlife from Sara’s end. Suddenly, it was silent save for the gentle hum of the innards of the ship. A soft, pulsating breeze of compressed air rained from the vents above, and Scott could swear he could hear the Angaran’s blood boil. Scott stepped forward and raised a hand, before Evfra spoke.

“What are you doing?” Evfra said, dangerously calm and composed, unexpectedly quiet in contrast to the absolute explosion Scott anticipated.

“I was, uh,” Scott attempted.

“Taking pictures of yourself,” Evfra said, pausing to let his eyes trail down the human’s length. “Without a shirt.”

“It’s a long story,” Scott attempted again, fingers suddenly numb and incapable of unraveling his balled up shirt.

“Do tell,” Evfra said tensely, crawling forward towards the human. “I have all the time in the world now that I’m free from the meeting that you so conveniently bolted from.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t care,” Evfra flashed his teeth. He pulled up to Scott and towered above him, gravely glaring down at the shirtless man. “I’m sure your Initiative would love to know that their prized Pathfinder would rather spend his time messing around than getting some work done.”

“I just,” Scott paused, gulping loudly and biting his cheek. He could smell the other, a heat radiating from the large, blue man. “I just needed a break.”

“You can have a break when you are done,” Evfra snarled, his gloved fist lifting to point invisibly towards the conference room. “We are not done in there.”

“Look Evfra, I didn’t mean to step out for as long as I did. I had a call from my sister—”

“Sara,” Evfra frowned, brow constricting. “The human diplomat on Aya. The one who should be here, but instead, I have you.”

“Hey, I don’t know why I’m here either!” Scott’s voice rose, his head craning up to flash his own whites to the scarred Angaran. “I don’t know how to do all this diplomatic crap, but I do know I got us here to this point.”

“Ah yes, with a barrage of insurgent hellfire and the near extinction of our culture in Helius.”

“It wasn’t pretty, but…” Scott trailed off, his tongue squeezing under his teeth.

“And as a result, we are working together to share the sky with you lot.”

“Is that something you don’t want?”

“I want us to be allies,” Evfra said slowly, eyes locking with Scott’s. “But we cannot work well together when you are in here instead of in there.”

Scott’s eyes broke from the Angaran’s to stare at the steel floor, drawing a silent wall between the two. The other’s shoulders rose and fell slowly, rhythmically with his deep and low breaths. Scott could hear the man’s joints crack and grind, years of wear and tear crunching the impressively old Angaran’s bones. A long sigh escaped the human’s lips, his warm breath fluttering to his blood smudged chest and raising goosebumps on his skin.

“You are bleeding,” Evfra said with gravel in his voice. “What are those?”

Scott’s eyes opened and sure enough, he was bleeding. His heart raced the moment the Angaran leader intruded in and began his besmirching, which Scott pinned as to why his still fresh wounds reopened. He brought a hand up and dabbed at the small striations underneath. “Fuck, they’re, uh, piercings.”

“Piercings?” 

“Yeah, like jewelry,” Scott winced. “For the body.”

“I did not know such adornments were common in your species.”

“They’re not,” Scott said, head pivoting up to see the Evfra’s full attention was focused on his nipples. “Not really, anyways.”

“Why did you get them?” Evfra said, stepping a hair closer to fill the gap.

“My sister wanted to get some, and dragged me along,” Scott confessed.

“No, WHY did you get them?” Evfra cocked his head. “Are they symbolic?”

“They can be,” Scott breathed, pressing his bottom to the ridge of the sink behind him. He ran out of room, and Evfra was still incredulously close. He had no escape.

“What do they mean? In your culture?” Evfra smirked, a devilish glow leaking from his lips.

“These mean nothing,” Scott hiccuped.

“Nothing?” Evfra balked. 

“Yeah,” Scott gulped again, face warming and eyes glossing. “Nothing.”

Evfra’s piercing gaze narrowed in on Scott’s meek stare, a look of confident disbelief unsettling the half-naked Pathfinder. A cold, gloved hand rose slowly and dragged along Scott’s exposed abdomen, sending the human’s torso into a slight spasm. Scott’s breath ceased as the leather stroked up towards his chest, wiping an additional amount of blood onto the once pristine mitts. Evfra let out a low growl and his fingers encircled Scott’s nipples, rubbing them as softly as his alien fingers could allow. He flicked the gold rings softly and squeezed the flesh around them, sending small, thunderous clouds of bioelectricity to the sensitive flesh. Scott cried out quietly.

“Interesting that you say these have no purpose,” Evfra crooned, his eyes ripping up to look at Scott’s pained face. “When I can easily see they do.”

“Evfra—”

“Fascinating,” Evfra breathed, pinching and prodding the delicate flesh with his strong, webbed hands. “Does this make you feel good, Pathfinder?”

Scott didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. His eyes welled and slammed shut as Evfra continued his ministrations. Scott’s chest was in absolute agony before the Angaran had even walked into the room, and something must’ve happened to cause this sudden shift in sensation. His touch, Scott thought, felt like it was rewiring his pain, a Midas touch turning what he thought should be tortuous pain into anguished pleasure. His breath began to labor and his nipples firmed up, pushing the rings further out away from his chest into the curious, sadistic fingers of the Angaran leader. Evfra grinned and bit his gloves, peeling them off leisurely and spitting them to the floor. His now naked hand returned to Scott and kissed even lighter than before, the now unbroken connection between skin sending jolts straight into the incapacitated human.

“Evfra, please—”

“Are these the only ones you have?” Evfra interjected, his dominance in the situation unwavering. Scott shook his head down, chest involuntarily leaning into the larger man’s touch.

“Where else can humans get metal placed?” Evfra said as he removed his other glove and pinched roughly. “Besides here on your chest?”

Scott flipped his head back and let out a loud moan. His knees buckled and he fell forward harshly, slamming his forehead into the Angaran’s impressive chest. He smelled of leather and lacquer, like a old seat in a four-wheel back on Earth. Historic. Important. Scott was too weak to answer.

“Oh come now, I want to know more about this,” Evfra mused. “It’s something not mentioned in your reports. How sensitive your species are…”

Evfra pulled Scott back up and rubbed the man’s neck, squeezing and kneading the pulsing artery beneath the human’s flushed skin. “What about here?” the Angaran said with a flick of Scott’s dangling lobe. 

“Yeah,” Scott managed to release.

“And here?” Evfra continued, running his thumb down onto Scott’s bottom lip. He pressed into it and let the flap of flesh roll down, glistened and trembling. Evfra rumbled, low and deep, quiet enough to just fill the gap between the two in the empty restroom.

“Some people, ahh,” Scott rolled in Evfra’s continued torment. “Do.”

“Where else, Pathfinder?” Evfra spoke, his own eyes now tracing along Scott’s frame, taking in the shuddering man. “Where else can be… improved by some jewelry, as you call it.”

Scott’s reply came only in the form of another wail, hidden behind clenched teeth. His chest was sore, but Evfra’s fingers were electric. He knew the Angara had some form of electromagnetism in their biology, and he has seen Jaal use it plenty of times in combat. But now he was experiencing it in a subtler, more sensual kind of way. Evfra’s fingertips tickled his skin in a way completely unfamiliar to him, bolts charging through his veins and nerves and reaching whatever nodes that could send waves of excruciating pleasure to his cloudy mind. Scott was losing this battle, and he wasn’t entirely sure he if he wanted to win.

Evfra craned his head and licked his lips, watching the smaller man struggle under his fingers, which persisted at twisting and pulling at the human’s swollen and supple areolas. He chuckled to himself, a deep timbre rattling his throat, when his eyes descended further down to find Scott’s front passionately bulge outwards.

“I wonder,” Evfra snarled, pressing a knee forward and up between the human’s legs, forcefully hoisting Scott up with his powerful thigh. “Can you get one here?”

Scott’s mind melted, his heart raced and he went lightheaded, his pores opened and he became diaphoretic. He was at the mercy of the alien, like putty in his sinuous hand. Scott’s back arched and his mound twitched, caged behind once well-tailored seams now threatening to unravel. Evfra’s knee dug deeper into his crotch, mashing and digging himself underneath while his hands pressed and pulled on his rings. Evfra played with the captive beads and rotated them in their place, earning every sort of noise the remarkably malleable human could emit.

“How would that work, I wonder,” Evfra hummed in Scott’s ear. “A ring through the top? Down the sides perhaps? Enlighten me, Pathfinder.”

“Both!” Scott was all too quick to answer. “Fuck, ahh, both.”

“Really?” chuckled the Angaran leader. “I bet that sensation is… stimulating.”

Scott stammered as Evfra sent another pulse of biological fire into his shivering pecs. While Evfra’s fingers burned and sizzled on Scott’s rising flesh, his own alien respirations were growing deeper and stronger.

“So your sister forced you to get these? Were these her idea?” Evfra leered, stepping back and allowing the Pathfinder to catch his breath. “She has immaculate taste. Do her’s look like yours?

“They don’t, she got bars,” Scott struggled for breath, straightening himself and concaving his torso shyly under the judgemental eyes of the alien above him. He wasn’t expecting the day to devolve the way it did, from escalating tensions between two powerful factions, to being sexually interrogated in the bathroom. But Scott couldn’t get away from it, from him. He was his. “I wanted the rings.”

“Exquisite,” Evfra smiled, his hands digging into Scott’s tight waist. He tugged forward forcefully and Scott lunged into the clothed man, his smaller hands clambering to rest on the tower’s massive arms. Evfra’s fingers traced back up to Scott’s rings, nibbling on the inflamed metal. “I am curious to know what your sister’s… bars look like.”

“They’re nothing special,” Scott spoke, his lungs emptying and fingers digging into the leader’s back. 

“But yours are,” Evfra rumbled ferociously, pulling at the beads at the center. “Something tells me I wouldn’t be able to play with hers as easily as I can with yours.”

“She’s, ahh—“

“She’s what, Pathfinder?” Evfra asked with a firm, calloused pinch.

“Strong-willed,” Ryder moaned, a wet scent drooling at the stitch of his trousers.

“I thought I found you strong. You fought so hard to prove yourself to me, to the Angara, and here I am,” Evfra whispered, a dominance coaxing into Scott’s despairing ears. He paused and frowned, his long scar scrunching up along his lustful face. “Shocked to find you, Pathfinder, so weak.”

“Evfra…” Scott mumbled under his magnetic touch.

“Shush,” Evfra growled out as he replaced his thigh back under the human’s hard mound. “It’s okay.”

“Fuck, Evfra,” Ryder threw out after a rather sharp press from the Angaran’s larger fingers. The two stood, breathing and groaning quietly, while Evfra lingered on rolling the weeping metal in his fingertips and occasionally looking up to watch Scott’s face morph. The human’s exhalations were labored and quick, and his speech deteriorated into a garbled mess of profane moans.

With a final lick from his fingers, Evfra rose and pushed Scott back against the counter. His sweaty back divoting into the cold, metal basin which roused him from his haze. His sight was at best foggy and his remaining senses were far from catching up. His chest heaved fire with the sudden addition of fresh air, having no longer been enveloped and intoxicated by Evfra’s carnal heat. Evfra brought his fingers to his lips and sensually lapped at them, tasting the salty mix of sweat and iron collected on his blue, ethereal skin. He watched the human reboot and his attention went back down to Scott’s volatile arousal. Evfra smirked and pulled his knee out, watching the shorter man get pulled by gravity back to the floor and into reality.

“Don’t stop—” Scott began until being silenced by Evfra’s rough hand, which slipped around to squeeze the back of the panting human’s neck.

Evfra leaned in, bringing his lips microscopically close to the human’s waiting face, never breaking his gaze on Scott’s pants. “We have work to do—”

Scott’s eyes opened up and Evfra brought his hand to grasp onto the clothed outline, surrounding the short and thick rod with his deft fingers. His thumb twiddled the tip and a wire of silk pulled out from him. He smiled and his eyes met Scott’s one last time, cold but bright optics shooting directly into Scott’s fragile, lascivious soul. “Pathfinder.”

And like that we was gone, like an apparition disappearing in the breaking dawn. Evfra slinked out of the bathroom without a single word, without a single noise under his heavy feet. Scott remained breathless, lungs searching for a stable rhythm, hands wobbling on the edge of the counter. He ruminated on the pleasure of the play, his submission and utter lack of power, how his final endorphins and jolts of gratification perspired out of him. His licked his lips and tasted salt, strangely regretting his own familiar taste instead that of the alien leader’s. He would have given it up to him. Been taken.

His tinnitus soon vanished in his ear, and was replaced with the soft ring of an incoming call. “You’re being called back to the conference room, Ryder,” SAM proclaimed.

“I gotta get dressed first,” Scott smacked his lips, shaking whatever lingering lust he had down to the ground. He spun and faced the mirror, gasping at the sight of his chest: purple, swollen, and provocative. Evfra really did a number on his rings, and Scott was surprised that he didn’t feel much but pleasure in the torture. The fresh jewelry bothered him since he miserably got them inserted, but today he felt the potential in them. He never would have guessed that he’d be so enamored by the sensations they provided, so long as he had a muscular Angaran front and center.

Scott flexed in the mirror one last time, marveling at the near-grotesque sight of his battered pecs, bruised and engorged, blood still trickling out of the punctured edges. He bit his teeth and straightened his shirt down, feeling the iron ooze mat against the grey and blue cotton. He could hear SAM remind him again of the meeting, that he’d been gone too long in his post-coitus aberration, finding that he’d been standing still for nearly ten whole minutes. His shoes pressed softly on the steel floor in a ghostly way, coasting him along the effortless railed-track back to the conference room. He kept his eyes low, chin tucked to his chest, his hidden nipples just outside his peripheral along with each passerby paying him zero mind. He had nothing to fear, Evfra wouldn’t be so bold as to publicly announce anything regarding his personal life, so why should he start with Scott’s? Theirs?

The entrance slid open and Scott was greeted with the composed eyes of the blue Angaran, bent over the table with a tablet placed upright glowing up like a spotlight. Like nothing ever happened, Scott thought. Evfra’s attention returned to the tablet and then back up at Tann, his holographic bust still distorting in swimming particles of dust. The two resumed to converse, in a distinguishingly more civilized and quieter fashion. Scott’s mind pricked up as if receiving a distress call, as if something wasn’t right. Were they just going to leave it at that? Was Evfra just going to continue with his work and press onwards with the negotiations? Was he still required to be there? 

A subtle wag of Evfra’s fingers brought Scott to his side, where the larger man slid the tablet over and pointed to the screen of scrolling text. He asked a question, something far too nonchalant and unperturbed, something on-topic. Scott felt his lips move and words come out, shaken and unsure, but an answer nonetheless. Evfra’s wicked smile came snaking back and a tiny shift in his pupils went down to the Pathfinder’s crotch, constricting on the thankfully unremarkable and unerect front of the human’s trousers. It was a look and move that literally anyone else would’ve missed, a secret fluency only the imposing blue beast and Scott could speak. Evfra nodded and returned to the matter at hand, raising his sandy voice at a particularly unacceptable proposition Tann’s nasally words offered. Scott’s face went red and he forcefully slid the tablet back, knocking the device into Evfra’s tense wrist.

Scott grabbed a chair and interwove his fingers together in his lap, impatiently watching the two men lobby words masked as insults back and forth for seemingly eons. Kesh and the Moshae had long left the conversation, having agreed to resume talks once the two hotheads got it all out of their systems. Tann was particularly uptight, leaving Evfra uncharacteristically lax and level by comparison. He seemed like an entirely different person, as if the coupling in the restroom refocused or reprogrammed the other’s demeanor in a way that allowed him to forgo feelings of agitation the brash Salarian was causing. Maybe he just had to get something out of his system, he thought, and Scott was the decidedly fortunate recipient. Evfra was always headstrong, as the Moshae and Jaal could attest to, and dispirited those who even attempted to confront the merciless leader with matters about his candor. So seeing him in such a way, interactive and encouraging, accessible and productive, rubbed Scott the wrong way. If Jaal were to witness this, he wouldn’t have believed his eyes or ears.

It didn’t mean that Evfra was fully totalitarian and cruel, though. His whole focus was the survival of his dwindling species, sacrificing so much in the hopes of having his people prosper for another generation. These talks with the Initiative meant so much to him, with so much riding on his ability to keep his culture and his people first above everything and everyone else. The Angara came so close to losing it all, and Evfra knew that with what Scott had managed to achieve, all of his hopes and efforts were revived. His dominant nature of getting what he wanted worked as well as it did when there wasn’t any help in their war, but now there was Scott. Willing and able.

Willing to accept Evfra’s dominance and obstinacy, his drive towards an ultimately mutual benefit. The Angaran’s power in serving a greater purpose than feeding his attractive, scarred ego. It’s the attitude he had in the bathroom, hovering over Scott like a cat and a trapped rat, leering and muttering on and on about things that made the human squeal. He was gathering information, interrogating the helplessly horny Scott with his electric hands and voice to earn some possibly exploitable information against the young man. He was learning, formulating. Using him to get something he wanted, and maybe even give him something in return. It made Scott breathless and hard.

Scott licked his lips as he watched the giant interact with the hologram, his large arms swaying through whatever gesture he was using, his backside plumping firm with a pivot of his hip. His powerful legs planted firmly to the floor, his own pants swelling out and threatening to burst at the seams. It was an oddity that Scott had observed about Angaran fashion, how everything looked form fitting. A near second skin, bulk and muscles swaddled tight by leather and silk. Symbolic and unique, with no other having quite the same design. Impossible to replicate, and as told by another sly grin and lascivious pout, Evfra damn well knew it.

Scott’s attention broke when the bright blue of the hologram blipped out of existence, blanketing the expansive room in a dark frost. The lights above were slow to glow and the sudden shift from two booming voices to just one soft beckon roused the Pathfinder from his lustful reverie.

“Pathfinder,” Evfra called from the door, standing beside it and waving towards the hall.

Scott blinked and rose, tucking in his chair with pavlovian precision. He felt the Angaran’s gaze as he pressed past, carefully avoiding coming too close in contact with the larger man who trailed behind. Scott felt a hand grab his shoulder, unnervingly light in its pressure, which steered Scott past the mess hall and to another set of sealed doors. “Come,” he ordered.

The door flew open and the Angaran stepped hurriedly through, plunging into the dark and twirling left. A small beep echoed around the room and suddenly the lights were on, a deep orange glow beaming from exactly one large bulb above. Scott squinted through the intrusive shine and after quickly acclimating, was jolted by the informality and welcomeness he felt in the small room.

The dark and grey steel pipes lining the ship’s guts were all but masked by strews of carpet and tapestries, off all shapes and sizes, scattered around the floor and strung up on the walls. Inside was a modest desk, a worn out looking chair, and a lump bed with thick blankets and pillows. It looked distractingly comfortable, far removed from the minimalist personality of the occupant. Scott was absolutely dumbfounded, like looking through someone’s diary and finding their deepest, dirtiest secret. This couldn’t be Evfra’s quarters. It looked too lived in.

“Drink with me,” Evfra beckoned from the desk, handling a near empty bottle and two chipped glasses, marked with stains and scratches from repeated use and abuse. Scott stepped cautiously forward, eyes darting around the room finding something new to gawk at with each bounce. There was a potted plant, wilted and in need of water. There was a tattered piece of colorful fabric, hung from the ceiling in front of a porthole. There was a dresser, drawers pulled out and clothing erupting from inside. A discarded top was thrown from across the room, and Scott turned around to see Evfra.

The Angaran stood shirtless, muscles stretching and his joints snapping as he got comfortable. He cracked his neck and rolled his wrists, careful not to spill the two half-filled glasses in his tight palms. His eyes were closed and his mouth open, quietly inhaling through his nostrils and sighing loudly. It had been a long day.

“To celebrate?” Scott asked meekly, eyes unable to get off of Evfra’s arms and legs. The larger man nodded and Scott smiled, his gaze trailing the deep blue of Evfra’s face down the beautifully melted neck tendrils into his weathered chest. His form was blanketed in scars of varying states, some dark and deep, others light and new. It was the first time Scott really considered that the Angara had been fighting for this long, never seeing anything but war until just recently. He felt bad for the man handing him a drink. It was probably the first time he’d be drinking to commemorate something other than despair.

“There’s still much to discuss, but I think we’re on the right path. Your Salarian is a tough negotiator,” Evfra spoke slowly, sipping at his drink. Scott held his own glass steady and perused the room, stepping cautiously over the mismatched pillows and discarded clothes littering the floor. Evfra clawed behind him and gently grabbed his shoulder, sending shivers down Scott’s spine. “What do you think?”

“It’s,” Scott paused, minding his words, “eclectic.”

“You think?”

“I mean it’s certainly,” Scott said, taking a swig from his strong glass, “unexpected.” 

“How so, Pathfinder?” Evfra said, stepping past the shriveled human to a chair in a dark corner.

“I just never would’ve guessed you had such,” Scott said with a tap of his fingers, unable to quite put his impressions into words.

“Style?” Evfra said with a laugh, unnerving the meek human.

“Well,” Scott blushed, fidgeting in his place under the scrutinizing eyes of the slouched Angaran.

“Well?” Evfra pressed, swirling his glass. “Go ahead and say it, I have thick skin.”

“I’ve been to your office, and it’s,” Scott muttered, his face and inhibitions burning from the drink. “Boring.”

“Boring?”

“Yeah,” Scott gulped. “Boring. You have nothing in it. No character. Kinda thought it was reflective of… you.”

“All by design,” Evfra chuckled again, finishing his drink and wiping his lip with his dark tongue. “I can’t let anyone know I—” 

“Like color?” Scott spoke presumptively, flashing a sarcastic grin at the man.

“I believe leaders need to come off as not having time for such luxuries as affluence. Their attentions need to be directed towards the matter at hand. It is what separates us and dictators,” Evfra explained, studying the empty glass in his hand and then directing his piercing gaze at the other. “I can not have my people thinking that I have more time for decorating my office, and not them. Which is why I have this room, no one knows about it but  I and now you.”

“But,” Scott began, “isn’t it hypocritical?”

“Hmm?” 

“Hypocritical that you don’t want to seem like you have free time, but you spend free time in here?”

Evfra smiled and laughed in his throat, lightly heaving up and down in his ripped seat. “No one said I was a perfect person.” 

“But you’re a person, with a need to let loose. You can’t just not be yourself because the five minutes that you could’ve spent hanging a painting could’ve been used reading a report.”

“I do let loose,” Evfra mulled. “I drink.”

“I meant more than that,” Scott tried, flipping around and raising his free hand to his still sore chest. “I mean like really just taking a break once in a while.”

“I can not afford that,” Evfra’s voice rose, a deep growl vibrating around the room. “Not when your people are being systematically exterminated every which way.”

Scott stood firm in his spot on the other side of the room and watched Evfra’s face drop, eyes darken with the sudden awareness of his career choice. Well, not choice, Scott thought. He imagined the position of power Evfra held was that of his superiors slowly dwindling down until he was unceremoniously shot to the top. From a soldier, filing shoulder to shoulder with his own to fight against an enemy that was recently discovered was his people. The weight of having his remaining culture and society look to him for salvation and he’s worried about appearances? About showing that he’s in the fight one-hundred percent? Scott could hardly believe it.

Evfra’s shoulders rolled back and he took a long, deep breath in. His eyes flickered open and his gaze rose to find Scott’s worrisome expression. Evfra grinned small. “Come here.”

Scott froze, unsure of what the Angaran’s intentions were. Not only this exchange, but certainly the episode in the bathroom had dramatically changed their entire rapport and Scott couldn’t even begin to imagine what the devilish Angaran had in store. An invitation to drink with a colleague was one thing, but Scott being allowed into the most stubbornly distant and stern man’s oxymoronic quarters nearly immediately after said man violated him was a whole new game. A game Scott was weirdly yet excitedly eager to play.

Evfra’s beady eyes and rapturous smirk were all working to pull Scott recklessly close to the sprawled out and waiting alien. Scott’s throat spasmed and he took a deep, dry gulp, nervousness hitting him like a bus. All Evfra did was smile and sit patiently, seemingly content on the several slow seconds of silence growing between them. Maybe he liked the hesitation, watching his prey fiddle and dance for him. Scott watched him adjust upright, tilting his head back and forth as if he were inspecting a piece of meat for purchase. 

“Refill?” is all Evfra said, his eyes noticeably transfixed on Scott’s chest. Evfra passed the human his empty glass and Scott rolled his eyes before veering off to fix the man another drink. He felt the cold, steely gaze on his back while his hands worked the frosty bottle, slick with condensation. Scott was puzzled by the temperature of the drink, as all the Tavum he’d ever had came luke-warm and swirled with water. Another one of Evfra’s perplexities, Scott wondered.

With the task complete, Scott turned back around and handed the man his drink, throwing in a subtle frown having been asked to top him off in the first place. The alien’s position led Scott’s mind in a wild variety of directions, all seemingly focused on the Angaran’s thunderous thighs spread open, invitingly. The leather of his pants wrinkled behind his knees but laid perfectly flush with the packed length of his legs, all working to cripple the human, whose mouth all but watered at the gorgeous sight. With a quick, moisturizing lap at his drink, Scott marched forward to stand in between Evfra’s legs. He swayed to and fro and stared at the Angaran, watching his light blue eyes swivel up and around the pale exposures of flesh and zero in on Scott’s stained top.

“You are bleeding,” Evfra pointed out with a smirk.

“No thanks to you,” Scott replied without hesitation.

“You liked it,” Evfra pressed.

“Maybe,” Scott, again, replied quickly.

“Will you let me play with you some more?” Evfra asked quietly.

“Oh, you’re asking permission now?”

“Seems appropriate, given our work for the day is done,” Evfra smirked evilly and took a sip of his drink.

“So what was all that in bathroom?” Scott asked, anger rising.

“That was me disciplining my subordinate when they were supposed to be working,” Evfra replied cooly, his toned down demeanor mixing imperfectly with Scott’s ire.

“You play with your soldier’s bodies too?”

“Only the ones that will let me,” Evfra answered.

“But I didn’t—”

“You did,” Evfra replied matter-of-factly. “I believe your exact words were, ‘Don’t stop.’” 

“Listen—”

“I have also seen the way you look at me. At Ama Darav. The way you lust after us,” Evfra’s dominate voice simmered into existence, making Scott shudder with every syllable. “I had to find out for myself. Do a little investigating.”

Scotted gulped another dry pocket of air. “And..?”

“And it seems like I was not wrong,” Evfra cooed as he moved his legs inwards, crunching his human prey in with his powerful pincers. “Take off your shirt.”

Scott didn’t know where the sudden zeal came from but he without hesitation handed the man seated in front of him his glass before working to get the cotton shirt up and over his head. He let it drop to the floor and in an instant felt the room get a little warmer, his pants a little tighter.

“I don’t know what it was like in your galaxy, being blessed to have so many options in partners,” Evfra scanned Scott’s chest and blindly handed him back his drink. “There’re only two species in Helius and one is our sworn enemy.”

“This galaxy is pretty big,” Scott murmured through a large mouthful of Tavum. “I bet you haven’t been able to find them yet.”

“Well, luckily for me, all I had to do is wait for some to arrive on my doorstep,” Evfra growled as he emptied his second glass of the night. He sat up and drew his hands to Scott’s exposed abdomen, gently pressing the soft and quiveringly sensitive flesh with care. He rubbed circles with his palms and inched his way up towards Scott’s petrified chest. A forceful exhale from the human and Evfra’s hands stopped, his alien eyes rolling up to see Scott’s bashful face.

Without breaking eye contact, Evfra leaned forward and parted his lips so slightly to allow a hint of tongue to press against Scott’s warm naval. The Angaran’s hands slid behind Scott and journeyed up his back, waving around the human and creating a soft friction on the groove of his skeletal plates. Evfra started kissing upwards, centimeter by centimeter, tenderly affectionate in a complete turn-around from the dominant and bossy leader Scott met in the bathroom.

Scott felt dizzy, like his knees would dissolve and his hips slip out of socket. If it weren’t for Evfra’s strong hands behind him he certainly could have at that moment. The attention the other was giving sent the butterflies in his stomach into a fluttering frenzy. A soft moan departed his lips, which Evfra responded with a hoarse rumble onto what would be Scott’s diaphragm. The cord-like reverberations traveled all along Scott’s body, ending in his skull and pinging around like a ricocheting bullet. He brought his glass to his mouth and killed the remaining drink, feeling the cold liquid swirl down and abate his rising heat.

“So will there be more?” Scott’s words rolled out of his throat with a garbled relaxedness to them.

“More what?,” Evfra replied with the same level of fluency, lips never fully breaking from Scott’s body.

“More of this,” Scott asked breathlessly.

“Not until these heal a bit,” Evfra growled, his head finally reaching up to snag one of Scott’s gold rings into his lips. Scott let out a loud moan while Evfra sucked on his pec, the sting of his alien saliva piercing into the tender wound like a wordless injection. “But I am sure I can find something else to occupy my time.”

“Our time,” Scott clarified, biting his bottom lip as Evfra’s mouth vacuum-sealed around his opposite peak. 

Evfra chuckled in his throat, lips and tongue being used in a far more important manner than speaking clearly. Scott choked back a moan as Evfra pulled away from Scott’s bruised chest with a silky tendril of spit stringing to his mouth. His eyes looked fatal, ready to take charge the same way he took charge in the bathroom. His fingers started digging into Scott’s backside, fondling the muscular flesh that Scott was rather proud to provide him.

Scott arched his back and dropped his glass, lucky to hear it simply clatter to the ground and not shatter on the synthetically woolen rug. Evfra didn’t care though, or probably didn’t even hear it. His hand was far too busy crawling up to handle his human’s waistband, gripping the elastic imbued rim of the pants and pulling down sharply.

“My time,” Evfra hissed.

Scott held back a yelp as his backside was met with the sudden exposure of the actual coldness of the small room. His eyes snapped shut and he could only hear Evfra chuckle hungrily, a dark sound of pride and fervor at the sight of Scott’s naked ass. Evfra took his dear, sweet time running the flat side of his palm against the soft layer of hair covering each cheek and ended his casual stroke with a firm, hard slap. Scott heard another chuckle, hungrier than before, and felt the familiar mouth back onto his chest, dead center. 

The Pathfinder let out a moan and twisted under Evfra’s kneading hands, gripping and spreading Scott’s ass with practiced ease. The man felt like he knew what he was doing, felt like he always knew. Like he always dreamt of this and practiced it in his mind, laying out a protocol for how to deal with Scott’s measly human form whenever he got the chance. And it wasn’t like Scott didn’t have plenty of his own mental fantasties on how to take on Evfra or Jaal. Or heaven bless, both.

Scott reopened his eyes and found Evfra grinning wickedly, his own blue hand trailing up to Scott’s mouth. “Open,” is all he said, a forceful order that made Scott fully erect. His mouth gaped and Evfra’s large, assertive fingers plunged deep inside. Scott worked around the invaded digits and lapped at them, tasting the grime and sweat of lord knows wherever they had been. For a split moment, Scott actually imagined where they had ever been, but was more importantly focused on where they were about to go.

Satisfied, Evfra tore his spit-slicked fingers out with a pop, and inspected the good, shimmery work. He snaked the hand back around and while his other hand pulled apart Scott’s globes, exposing his quivering and ultimately ready hole. Evfra’s lips returned to Scott’s golden rings and blew cold air directly onto the flesh, watching them perk and plump up with the exhaled wind. Scott felt the piercings constrict and bulge heinously outward, matching the erection still buried in his pants.

Evfra let his fingers press down and he applied a sensual tease to Scott’s hole, twirling around and sinking increasing amounts of pressure until Scott felt one slip in. The rough callousness of Evfra’s finger now slicked smooth with Scott’s spit, sliding near-effortlessly into his warm cavern. It snaked in, knuckle after knuckle, until the base of Evfra fist pressed satisfactorily up against Scott’s entrance, his desperate warmth radiating downwards along the entire length of Evfra’s engulfed finger.

“We have work to do—” Evfra snarled, teeth blaring and finger dominantly flexing up inside and forcing a moan out of Scott. Evfra brought his lips up to Scott’s, parting a hair and steaming out a breath, tongue dipping out and ready for conquest. “Ryder.”


End file.
